warmth
by deadwoodpecker
Summary: Ginny comes home to find Harry with another lady. This is pure, unadulterated fluff. No apologies, ha ha.


Ginny took extra care shutting the door, not wanting to repeat yesterday's mistake. Soft, whimsical music wafted toward her. A low hum joined in, and the sound of his voice had her hurrying forward.

Their living room was a mess, but Ginny didn't care. Instead, she leaned against the wall and gazed at the sight before her. Warmth bloomed inside her as she watched Harry dance slightly, humming along to the lullaby, and rubbing circles on the small baby's back. Helen's eyes were still open, but she was slumped against his chest, two fingers in her mouth, and Ginny knew it was only a matter of time before her big brown eyes closed.

A little whimper had Harry saying, "You're all right, Helen, little love." There was a tenderness in his tone that he reserved for occasions such as this. Ginny hadn't realized how much she'd missed it until that first day of Helen's life, and she'd heard him wish her a good morning. Her knees wobbled a little. It was so long since Lily was little that she'd forgotten how Harry's tenderness made her feel, the warmth of it brushing over her like a caress.

His hand was still on Helen's back, his long, tapered fingers soothing her to sleep. The baby's eyes were half-closed now, and a smile flitted across her small face. Ginny couldn't blame her – being held by Harry was uniquely wonderful.

"Your gran always smells so lovely," Harry told the baby. "You smell pretty good, too, now we've changed your nappy."

"You knew I was here?" Ginny said.

Harry rocked lightly, turning to face her. "Of course I knew. Helen, your gran underestimates your granddad..."

"Never," Ginny said. Their eyes met. Harry stretched his arm out, issuing her an invitation, and she stepped into his embrace. The song ended and a new one began, this one even more familiar as it was the one they'd sung to Albus every night for three years.

Ginny hugged him tightly, then eased back to kiss her granddaughter's head. Then, wanting more contact, she slid her hand inside his robes and rubbed his back. This was a familiar dance to her; how often had they done this with their own children? Harry's scent – clean and warm – surrounded her. She breathed it in, deeply. A chuckle reverberated against her ear when she slumped more fully against him.

She tilted her head upward and smiled at him. "Six months ago you were anxious about becoming a granddad so young," she reminded him.

Harry heaved a sigh. Helen snuffled and squirmed. "I just thought I was too young to be sleeping with a granny, that's all..."

This surprised a laugh out of her. "Well, if that's a problem for you, I suppose we can adjust our evening plans..."

"No!" Harry said. Humor gleamed from his eyes, and also something else: the desire he reserved just for her. "No, I don't want to adjust our evening. I've been looking forward to it since last time."

"Oh, honestly!"

Their eldest son's voice punctured the moment. Without missing a beat, they turned to look at him. He was leaning exactly where Ginny had been, had his arms folded across his chest; his hair was wilder than usual, and his robes were torn. There was a bandage about his head.

"What happened to your head?" Ginny asked.

James ignored this, strode forward, and took his daughter. "You get used to it, Helen," he told her in a warm, tender tone. "Your grandparents are quite flirty."

"Lucky for you, or you wouldn't exist," Harry pointed out.

"That's true," said James. He cuddled his daughter, then whispered: "Just never forget to knock on their door. Never."

Ginny laughed with them, then prodded until James told her that during one of his inspections, the broom had "gone wonky" and thrown him about a bit before depositing him in a tree. She packed up Helen's things while he spoke – amazingly, even with all her things now in the bag, the sitting room was still a disaster.

"I can help clean this up..." James said ruefully. "Here, I'll put her down and–"

"Don't be silly, I'll do it," Harry said. "She'll want to be in her own crib for her nap..."

"We're used to this," Ginny said, with great cheer. "Dad was always wonderful with you three, but if I was gone more than half an hour, I always came home to deliriously happy children and a disaster for a house."

"I remember that," said James. "It was all Lily."

Within minutes, father and daughter were gone and they were alone. Neither Harry nor Ginny had to say a word – once the door shut, they were back in each other's arms, swaying a bit. A flick of Harry's wand, and the music changed from a lullaby to something deeper. Ginny slumped against him and listened to the familiar sound of his heartbeat. Peace and desire mingled together, heightened by the feel of his fingers tickling up and down her back.

"Can we adjust our evening plans to late afternoon?" Harry murmured.

"Oh, yes," said Ginny.

He took her hand in his, twined their fingers, and instead of leading her to their bedroom, he led her over to the couch. They sprawled together.

"But if one of the kids–"

"You heard James," he said. Gentle kisses trailed up and down her neck, and her body felt more and more flushed. She squirmed closer, settling herself more fully in his lap. Harry was in a playful mood, Ginny realized, when his hands rubbed her side, finding the spot just above her waist where she was particularly sensitive.

It was several minutes later that she said, breathless: "That we're flirty?"

"No," said Harry. His eyes were on her. "That we taught them how to knock."

Ginny laughed, told him he was right, and allowed herself to be seduced in their sitting room, in full daylight. If there was a knock on the door, neither one of them heard it. 


End file.
